Crazy making times

I’ve been awake for 58 straight hours–a bizarre but oh too familiar reaction to an antibiotic. On Sunday I came down with my third urinary tract infection since September, a frustrating situation that evidently is not a reflection of the state of my immune system (I look great on paper) but rather just a garden variety problem that has gotten a little out of control. With each of the recent UTI’s I’ve been put on a course of macrobid, the first two times without incident. However, just as I have in the past with levaquin, on Monday night I developed insomnia. As luck would have it, David left on a business trip early Tuesday morning. Not yet certain the insomnia was related to the antibiotic, I took two doses of macrobid yesterday. I also let the dog out for a pee and forgot about him. Fortunately, when I did remember that I had a dog, he was sitting by the door.

Yesterday was election day and parent teacher conferences at Peter’s school, so I headed off to the polls with the hope that I would remember to vote for the right candidate (I did). I got through the conferences, only to drive home in the dark without my headlights. Lordy.

Well, I didn’t sleep last night either. Sometime around 4 am I sent an email off to Dr. Shaw. I think I used the word concerned at least four times. This morning I got a little emotional thinking about how I was going to safely drive Peter to school, but I managed. Back home, I lay down hoping that I would just drift off, but the part of my brain that regulates sleep seems to be broken.

So, that’s that. Unfortunately, I am allergic to or intolerant of a number of antibiotics and one more just got crossed off my list. It’s concerning.

On Monday, before sleep or the lack thereof became the focus of my universe, I had a scan review with Dr. Shaw. I’ll cut to the chase: stability was a one off. I am back on track, as it were, with slow and steady progression. However, there is a silver lining to this cloud. I can stay on trial for six more weeks.

So that’s the scoop. I’m off to the pharmacy to pick up another antibiotic. And then I’m going to feed Pete, pop an ativan, and pray for sleep.

I plan my life around insomnia and I really feel for you on this one. You have quite enough to deal with already. Normally I would offer alternatives to antibiotics but in the realm of cancer I am not sufficiently trained to comment. It sure seems like there should be some options though. Wishing you a quick resolution.

Cindy, I’m sorry to hear this is an issue for you–few things can make a person feel as desperate not being able to fall asleep. I’ll have to pick your brain someday on your strategies for dealing with it…

Been there, hated that. We had “progression” for quite a long time, with its attendant drumbeats in the brain. It sounds to me like the brakes are still on, however. Get that sleep any way you can.
With you always,
xoxo
Joan

Linnea, sleeplessness is such torture, hope you find relief soon. Good news that you can remain in the study for awhile. Slow and steady progress is a wonderful treasure 🙂 . Steve had his 67th brthday today and a not-so-good report from CT scan, starting new chemo next week for shadows on spleen. Lung tumor appears to be growing again, too. Eight months off the chemo, now maybe three more on. We must shake off the gloom and get on with the business of fighting again. Peaceful dreams, Lady.

you don’t know me…..and I don’t know you…….. except for following your blog after meeting for a brief moment on the LCA support website; You are a remarkable woman……. a beacon of light in this dark world. Sending so much love and wishes for a night full of sleep and sweet dreams…….
X

Leigh, I am pleased to meet you again. And thanks for your kind words. It’s been a difficult couple of days and I and my light are a bit dim. Fortunately, a positive attitude is my default position, and with some more sleep, it will all look brighter.

Been there too. The deximethasone prescribed to prevent swelling during my brain radiation seems very effective at preventing sleep until the wee hours. Ativan helps. So does deep breathing, and reading long, boring books until they fall on my face. That’s the sure sign that it’s time to try again. I hope that you’ve gotten a good night’s sleep by now, and that the addled experiences are gone along with the UTI.